


Halloween Smut Stream

by Spectre058



Series: Stream Stories [12]
Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Mass Effect - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:22:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27285628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectre058/pseuds/Spectre058
Summary: In this holiday iteration of my smut prompt stream, Liara & Shepard mix up a "magic potion" that kicks off an orgy, Jeanne d'Arc gets dressed up to get dicked down, Artoria does some dicking of her own, and a small fishing town becomes the sight of Deep One ritual to Dagon.
Series: Stream Stories [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607080
Kudos: 1





	Halloween Smut Stream

_Shep and Liara mix up a potion and tell everyone (Normandy crew) at the Halloween party it’s punch when it’s a potion than makes you horny as hell and everyone ends up in a massive orgy_

“What is this stuff?” Shepard asked, pouring a careful measure of the glowing green liquid into the bubbling punch bowl made up to look like a witch’s cauldron.

“Something one of my contacts in Novaria sent me. She promises it will kick the party up a bit.” Liara replied, stirring the brew. “Do you trust this contact?” Shepard adjusted the fit of her witch costume as she asked it. “She’s always been reliable before.” Liara promised, tugging on her own witch’s hat. “I’m sure she’ll come through this time.”

*****

  
“THIS is what your contact call’s kicking the party up a bit?” Shepard demanded, gesturing to the madhouse the Normandy had become.

A few meters away Ashley was pinching her own nipples as she bounced atop Vega’s cock. Her mouth hung open, the load she’d just sucked out of Zaeed still dribbling off her tongue to mix into Jame’s dark chest hair. Not that he seemed to mind. His hands were on her hips, guiding her through a surprisingly gentle pattern of thrusts. Neither of them seemed to notice anything but each other. Which was crazy, because not more than an arms span away from them, engineer Donnelly was busy fucking Gabby Daniels up the ass. The engineer lay on her back, arms clutched to her own chest and one look at her face was more than enough to tell Shepard she was moments away from cumming all over the place. Speaking of cumming. Grunt had the Lawson sisters bent over the CIC’s command platform as he stood on the holo projector itself. Surrounded by the swirl of the galaxy, he stroked himself off, spraying cum all over the eager women, who opened their mouths to catch as much of it as possible. Miranda handled her load pretty well, but this was clearly Oriana’s first time with a krogan and she spit and sputtered as some of the thick spunk landed in her mouth, coughing it up all over her own face before Miranda pulled her into a sloppy kiss.

Over in the navigator’s chair, Tali rode Garrus’s cock backwards, bracing herself on his spread legs as she bounced and rolled with absolutely wild abandon. Garrus gestured animatedly with his drink as she did, clearly having the time of his life. Mordin had Jack bent over Kelly’s station, thick Salarian cock, (and could Shepard just say, she hadn’t even known Salarian’s had cocks until today!) hammering her ass with the same rapid fire pattern as the surprisingly filthy monologue he was serenading her with. And Jack was into it! She moaned and gasped at all the right moments in the story, one hand flicking her bean the entire time.

Wrex held Dr. Chakwas by the waist, using the ship’s doctor like a fuck toy as he bounced her up and down his shaft while she begged him to go harder. Diana Allers knelt under him, most her face obscured by the Krogan’s heavy quad, only muffled slurping sounds giving an idea of what she was up to. Her camera drone was busy though. She must had equipped it with some kind of VI at some point, because it zipped around the room, capturing the entire wild event in vivid HD for later consumption. It stopped over Kelly and Sam for a moment, and Shepard could practically see the lense zooming in on the way their pussies ground together as they tribbed on the deck.

Down on her knees, Liara blew a giant bubble in the cum coating her lips and chin. When it popped she said. “Well, you’ve got to admit, it is a very lively party.” Shepard rolled her eyes and stooped to lick the cum from her girlfriend’s face. She was right. It was a lively party.

* * *

  
_A race of sexy, hypersexual Deep Ones (fish men and fish women) rise out of the ocean and invade an island town, turning the town and whole island into a giant, days long wild orgy, where they converted and assimilated the towns people to be like them._

The first warning anybody on Cape Sael had of what was coming was when Old Man Holme was found balls deep in Mr. Flanry’s eldest daughter. The two men had been at odds since they were boys, and while finding the old man plowing one of the town’s most sought after bachelorettes was certainly upsetting, the young woman certainly seemed into it, screaming: “They’re coming!” in the throws of what anybody with eyes could see was orgasmic bliss. Flanry had to be physically restrained when he found them, but besides that, the rest of the town chalked it up to another escalation in the decades old conflict between them. A few of them even took bets on just how Flanry would strike back, with the best odds on plowing Old Man Holme’s wife, who everybody knew was an unfaithful trollope anyway.

They were wrong about that. It wasn’t his wife that Flanry was caught with the next day, but Holme’s middle son. Ms.Grysh, the fortune teller found them in the smoke house out by Pearl Cove, walking in just as Flanry sprayed his seed all across the young man’s face. That of course was enough to get the town’s attention. Snipping between the families was nothing new, but homosexuality was something entirely new. Flanry was dragged from the smoke house kicking and screaming, practically rambling in tongues and everybody agreed the shock of his earlier discovery of Old Man Holme had been too much for him. He was taken to the church where Father Grey promised to pray over him until his mind returned. Young Mr. Holme was quietly escorted back to his home by his sisters.

For a day it seemed like that little drama was all the town was going to get. And it would have been plenty. People would be talking about the shock of it all for years to come. Mr. Flanry was still in the church, but Father Grey assured his family that he was recovering nicely. When his wife pressed to see him, the father demured, saying he still wasn’t feeling his best, but Ms. Flanry insisted. Finally the father agreed, and let Ms. Flanry in to see her husband after the evening mass. She was still with him when the father went to bed. The next morning Father Grey awoke to the sound of wild, uncontrolled screaming coming from the room he’d given to Mr. Flanry. Rushing from bed the Father threw the door open and stopped dead in his tracks. Sister Margaret, the church’s elderly nun, sat astride Mr. Flanry, her habit pulled open to reveal pendulous breasts that bounced with each frantic thrust of Mr. Flanry’s hips and she was screaming in mindless pleasure. Well, one of her breasts bounced, the other was held tight against her body, pinned there by Ms. Flanry’s mouth. The fishwife was completely naked and Father Grey blanched as he saw the silver glint of the crucifix shoved into her anus. Foul, blasphemous words tumbled from the old woman’s lips when she saw the father standing in the doorway, enticements and encouragements for him to join them, offering him lewd and licentious things if he only cast aside his petty faith and joined them. Father Grey fled, crashing through the darkened church, bashing his hip against a pew before reaching the double doors of the front entry. He fumbled with the lock for a moment, fingers clumsy with the horror of what he’d seen. Metal clicked as he found the hole, and he cast the doors wide with strength born of terror. Light flooded the dark antichamber, but not the gray, slightly damp light of morning on the coast. This light was the primal, flickering light of hellfire. The town was burning. Or portions of it anyway. From where he stood he could see tongues of orange fire consuming the school, the small radio station the government had just finished putting in, and in the distance, the skeletal remains of the light house just as the mighty electric light cracked and fell into itself. Father Grey sank to his knees in despair as he beheld what had become of Cape Sael. The townsfolk were out in the streets, but they weren’t trying to fight the fires, far from it. They fornicated by the light of those fires. Young and old, man and woman and beasts, all rutting mindlessly. And emerging through fog that impossibly ignored the raging flames were the shadowy shapes of demons.

The Deep Ones had come to Cape Sael.

_Continued in part 2_

* * *

  
_Jeanne (Fate): Jeanne, dressed as a witch, is willing to indulge to her darker self, if it means being in a mating press with kisses and breast play to have both her and the reader happy._

You wouldn’t have pegged Jeanne as one of the servants most likely to get dressed up for Halloween, and yet, here she is, standing in the doorway to your room at the Chaldea, all dressed up for you. The costume is clearly intended to be a witch, but looking at it, you get the suspicion somebody else helped Jeanne pick it out. The cloak is long and flowing, exactly like you’d expect, but beneath it is a tiny black dress that hugs her waist and hips while showing off an entirely scandalous amount of decolletage. In fact, it looks like it does more to lift and enhance her cleavage than conceal it. Knee high boots and pointed witch’s hat complete the outfit. Jeanne shifts uncomfortably in the doorway, and you realize you’ve been staring for a bit too long. “Jeanne, you look, um, festive?” She nods her head. Her long hair is in it’s usual braid, but as it sways, you can see she’s woven plastic spiders in among the hair. “Thank you, master. I asked my alternate to help me pick out an outfit for the holiday. This was their recommendation. They even went out and bought it for me. I can change if you’d prefer.”

You throw your hands up. “No, no that’s ok! You look great, I was just surprised.”  
“Oh. I see. Thank you.” She blushes a little. “What’s the occasion? Are you two going to a party or something?” She blushes harder. “No. I. Um. I wanted to dress up for you while we, um, while we…” She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “I wanted you to lay with me and I understand that some people consider costumes to be arousing.”

Oh. OH! Your throat is suddenly dry, and it takes you a second to clear it. “Y-yes. Yes some people do consider… I mean you do look arousing.” Jeanne steps into your room, letting the door close behind her. “Then you will lay with me?” You consider for maybe a three count. She did go through all the effort to get dressed up… Jeanne gaps as your cock pushes into her. Despite the effort she went through to dress up for you, you didn’t really take much advantage of it. The top of her dress has been pulled down so you can play with her full breasts, and the already short skirt is pushed up past her hips so you can get between those perfect legs. The simple white panties she’d been wearing contrasted heavily with witchy get up, so you’ve helpfully removed them entirely. Her hat’s stayed on though, and now it’s brim brushes your forehead as you lean in to kiss her. The lean takes your cock even deeper, sinking all the way to the hilt into her eager pussy.

She returns your kiss with evident hunger. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen this side of Jeanne, but you absolutely never tire of it. Beneath her virtuous exterior hides a horny woman eager to come out and play. It’s kinda the opposite of her alternate actually. JAlter uses her sexuality as a weapon, but is shy and reserved once you get her in bed. Jeanne on the other hand is eager for you, her entire body alight now. You feel the wetness of her as you press your hips against hers, all the way inside her. Her knees are trapped by your elbows, held up by her head in classic mating press. Still kissing her you pull back, relishing the way her pussy clings to your cock, squeezing it as you slide out of her, only to plunge it back in with a growl. Her ass bounces off the mattress with the force of your thrust. You do it again, and again. You aren’t going fast, not yet, just deep and powerful, holding each thrust for a few moments to let you both feel it before pulling back.

After a dozen of those long, lingering strokes you can feel her body quivering for more, shuddering against you as you once again withdraw your cock. Her eyes are huge as you break the kiss and she breathes. “Harder. Please, harder.” That’s all you needed to hear. You slam into her, and this time, you don’t give her time to feel it. Your hips churn, hammering her with a series of wild thrusts that leave her gasping for air between ragged moans. You go faster, ramping up to your top pace in moments. Each thrust feels incredible, the heat of her wetness splashing out against your crotch and balls. Her tits bounce as you fuck her, drawing your eye. You grab them, squishing soft flesh between your fingers. She moans and convulses, pushed past her control and into a shuddering climax that just leaves her pussy tighter and your cock wetter. Now her cum is also really squishing out with each thrust, gathering on your balls, making a sloppy slapping sound with each thrust.

Holding her legs up is getting a little tiring, and restricting how much you can play with her tits, so you slow, grabbing her hands off the bed and shoving them towards her own legs. “Hold these.” She does, pulling her knees even closer to her head then you’d had them. “Yes!” She moans, voice dripping with naked lust. “Deeper, go deeper!”

Arms freed, and with her exposing herself even more fully to you, you do just that, slamming your cock home with every scrap of strength and power you have. She comes again, gushing all over you and moaning your name with absolutely shameless pleasure. That pleasure is infectious. You can feel it burning inside you as well, fueling you to go harder even as pressure gathers in your head. Her tits feel amazing in your hands, full and soft, with the hard points of her nipples pinched between thumb and forefinger. They rock with each thrust, too big for you to really hold, and that just makes it hotter. The pressure gets more intense, swelling to titanic proportions, leaving you quivering and sensitive. You don’t have long now.

“I’m close.” You growl, wanting her to make the call, knowing it will be so much hotter for her to ask for it. “In me!” Jeanne moans, thrusting her hips hard against yours. “I want to feel it all!” You give it to her, letting go and pumping her full of your own heat now. You never stop thrusting though, fucking your own cum out of her in heavy thrusts that leave you both gasping and shuddering. She lets go of her legs so she can wrap them around your hips, pulling you tight against her as the last of your climax fades. She grabs your head, dragging you down for a long, deep kiss, which you return, squirming your arms beneath her to hold her. Your breathing slowly returns to normal, heaving chest slowing, and you spend the entire time in each other’s arms.

* * *

  
_Deep ones, cont._

The Deep Ones moved through the town, and madness spread out before them. Ancient creatures of the depths, they were nonetheless bipedal, and only slightly taller than man. No one of them looked exactly alike, but their aquatic features held a monstrous beauty wholly unknown to the surface world. They were clad in nothing but jewelry scavenged from sunken ships, or else crafted in their volcanic forges, leaving their scaly bodies on clear display. Those bodies showed as little care for uniformity as their faces, and all combinations of sexual organs were mixed through the group. Mind twisting shapes of glistening gold caught the fire light, casting it back in hypnotic patterns as they strode through their new domain. Everywhere they went, lust preceded them.

A trio of Deep Ones entered the Holme estate, and found Old Man Holme busy consecrating his house to them already. He stood at the top of his grand staircase, an ancient, barnacle encrusted tomb in one hand, reading aloud from it’s pages as at his feet his daughter and wife writhed in sensual congress. His second eldest son was behind him, tongue deep in his father’s ass even as his older brother stroked and massaged his father’s erect phallus, using his own semen as lubricant. The Deep Ones were pleased by what they saw. Separating, they inserted themselves smoothly into the carnal display. One of them, equipped with full, round breasts and an arm ending in a writhing tentacle pulled the eldest Holme son away from his father, clutching the young man to it’s breasts. It’s moan echoed unnaturally around the room as his penis entered it. Another of the Deep Ones inserted itself between the writhing Holme women as naturally as if it had always been there, slithering it’s cock into the waiting hole of one and lifting the other easily so that it could taste the juices from her sex. The third Deep One took old man Holme’s cock for itself, slurping it down between fishy lips as tentacles wrapped around the old man’s waist. Holme’s chanting prayer rose in volume and energy as the Deep One felated him, culminating in a baptismal spray of semen that the creature eagerly bathed in. This house was theirs.

Elsewhere in town, other similar acts were playing out among the rest of the population. Ms.Grysh, the fortune teller found herself suspended between the cocks of her neighbors, held aloft almost solely by the power of their erections as both men vigorously pumped their hips. Her throat ached from the rough treatment, but the sweet spray of another load of cum numbed that pain. It was the fifth such load, and yet the cock in her throat remained just as stiff and hard as it had every other time he’d cum. Ms.Grysh clutched at his legs, fingernails digging furrows in the skin of his thighs as she tried to drag herself closer, to get the dick even a tiny bit further down her throat. Samuel, the baker’s son, held tight to his fiance’s hair, pulling her head back so he could gaze into her eyes as his cock sank over and over into her ass. Those eyes were glazed, flickering with madness. Each thrust of his hips brought his balls slapping against her hand where she had it pressed to her cunt, all four fingers deep and working in fevered haste to push her into delirious orgasm. Neither of them paid any heed to the fleshy Deep One who rose onto a nearby table, took Samuel by the hair and thrust it’s own fleshy cock down his throat.

At the center of town, walking proudly in the midst of her retainers, strode the High Priestess. Her form was the most human like of her people, modeled to entice and corrupt the desire of mortals. Gold glittered from her throat, her navel, her nipples, and from her crotch. Seen from a distance, she could have been human. She swept her gaze across the madness and lust her people had sown, and she was glad. They had done their work well. Soon this isle would be consecrated to its sacred purpose. She stopped before the building at the center of town. It wasn’t a very imposing building, white walls and a steeple, stained glass decorating a large round window. A man knelt at its entrance, clad in a bed shirt. He was crying. The Priestess stepped up to the man, reaching a hand out she lifted his chin until he was looking her in the eyes. His eyes went wide at that connection. He tried to speak, words cracking and falling apart before they ever made it out of his mouth. The Priestess looked down at the sad, broken man, and she smiled. “You are a man of faith. Your new god is here. Show your devotion.” Father Grey thrust his face between her naked legs, mouth open and tongue already seeking her sex.

Concluded in Part 3

* * *

  
_Artoria w/ suit (Fate): Artoria wishes to take control over you, by waking you up and fucking you in the ass in the missionary position with her penis whenever she pleases._

Waking up to something hard rubbing up against your ass brings you out of sleep faster than you’d imagined possible. You open your mouth to call out, but a hand clamps down over it, stifling you. The grinding becomes more insistent and you feel the weight pressing you to the mattress.

“Trick or treat, master.” The word master drips sarcasm, but you recognize the voice.

“Artoria.” You try to roll out from under her, but it aint happening. “What’s… what are you doing?”

Instead of answering, she rolls you over, rolling smoothly with the movement to maintain her position over you the entire time. You blink in the low light. She’s turned the lights in the room on to their lowest setting, and it takes a moment for you to realize what she’s wearing. Her usual dress is gone, replaced by an impeccably tailored black suit and tie. Her hairs been pulled back in a severe ponytail. Oh. and she has a dick. It’s a little hard to make out in the dimness, but it’s pretty clearly the thing that’s been pressing into your ass. She smirks as you notice it. “I know what you’ve been doing with the other servants, master.” Again, the term is mocking. “I think it’s time you and I establish just who's in charge here.” In a flash she has your boxers off and your legs spread wide for her. Your eyes flare as she presses the tip of her cock to your anus. She could have taken you right there, but she stops, looming over you. “Aren’t you going to order me to stop?”  
You shake your head. You’re in no way sure you’re ready for this, but she clearly is, and if this is how she wants to play it, you’ll ride it out.

Her smirk falters for a second, but then returns. “Very well. Here we go.”

Your eyes flare as she pushes into you. There’s so much cock. It’s filling you, stretching you out. You were right, you weren’t ready for this. She pulls back and you gasp, struggling to keep your face neutral. This is a contest of wills, and you’re already on the back foot. Another thrust and sensation rushes through you, brushing aside your hastily assembled resolve like it was made of straw. It’s not pain, though there is a little of that, it’s not even true discomfort. You can’t put your finger on just what it is, but it’s something, and as she starts to rock back and forth, it’s all you can think of.

Her pace accelerates, ramping up as your body starts to move in time with hers, hips rolling in anticipation of your thrusts. Despite the way she’d started this, she’s giving you the chance to adjust to it. She isn’t trying to break you after all, just prove her point. And as you get used to it, that not quite discomfort shifts, morphing into something… pleasurable.

You moan as the next thrust comes. Your dick responds to that moan, twitching and bouncing a bit. You’re getting hard. Artoria sees it, and her eyes fixate on it. Her lips spread in a slow smile. “My, my, master. You seem to be getting hard. Are you enjoying this that much?” The best you can manage in reply is a groan, and her smile gets wider. Reaching down, she wraps strong fingers around your nascent erection. The touch shoots through you like a lightning bolt, rushing from your crotch to the top of your head before rebounding back down to your feet in a whole body shiver. A few strokes is all she needs to get you fully erect, but she doesn’t stop at a few strokes. Her hand glides along your cock in steady moments, not quite in time to the roll of her hips. The difference is maddening, leaving you trying to cope with both sets of pleasure at once. And it’s definitely pleasure now. Her cock is stretching you out, filling you up in a way you’d never imagined. It’s tight, raw, and still a little uncomfortable, but as her hips pick up the pace again, you find yourself rocking your hips to urge her on faster.

Her hand on your cock moves faster too, stroking, adding it’s own insistent pressure to the roiling sensations. You’re gasping now, trying to drag in breath. Your heart is racing so fast it feels like you can’t get enough air to keep up with it. Any thoughts you’d had of toughing this out and making her submit are gone. Maybe another time that might happen, but right now you are totally at her mercy. And you love it. Your body is responding in ways it’s never responded before, a tingling tenseness that feels incredible. Especially your cock. It’s throbbing now, pounding in the way it does when you’re about to blow a massive load. You close your eyes, focusing everything you have on that sensation, hungry for release. Which is why you feel it so powerfully when Artoria grabs your dick and squeezes hard, trapping your climax.

You gasp, eyes shooting open again. She’s leaning over you, the pounding of her hips suddenly stilled as she looks into your eyes. “Who’s in charge?”

For a second you consider resisting, denying her. Then she shifts her hips and brushes her thumb over the head of your cock and that stubborn idea buckles in the faces of your body’s screaming need to cum.

“You are.” You gasp, barely able to focus enough to get the words out. She smiles, and lets you cum.

By all rights it feels like the moan that explodes out of you should have woken half the facility. Cum squirts from your cock in a long ivory line. Some of it gets on Artoria’s hand, but most of it splash down over your own naked chest. Two more join it, these two weaker than the first, but still leaving plenty of mess across your own belly. Then it’s her turn, and she isn’t content with three measly lines of cum. The first load erupts from her before she’s finished pulling out of your ass, leaving a gooey wetness around your entrance. The next two spurts paint cum over your inner thighs. Her last load lands squarely on your deflating cock.

Artoria looks at the mess and pulls a handkerchief from the pocket of her suit jacket. “You’re a mess, master. You should clean up before you go to bed.” She drops it onto your chest as she rises. With relaxed movements she tucks her cock back into her pants. “You can keep messing around with the other servants, I don’t care. But you’re mine whenever I want you. Is that understood.” Picking the handkerchief up off your chest, you nod. “Good.” She turns towards the door. “Sleep well, master. I’ll see you soon.”

* * *

  
_Deep ones, concluded._

By that evening the church had been consecrated to its new purpose. Father Grey once more stood at it’s pulpit, reading aloud from a holy book. It wasn’t his book, it was Old Man Holme’s, yet the words of its ancient speech rolled from his tongue as easily as if he’d given this sermon a thousand times. Sister Margaret knelt before him, her mouth around his cock and her belly already beginning to swell with a blessing from a Deep One. Even as she listened and sucked her fingers worked between her legs.

Out in the pews sat the rest of the town. None of them wore a stitch of clothing, and many of the women were beginning to show the same blessing as Sister Margaret, as were several of the Deep Ones. They listened to the Father’s sermon with wrapped focus, chanting along with it in deep, sonorous tones when appropriate. Mr. Flanry sat in the front row, chanting even more loudly and enthusiastically than anyone else. He had a Deep One on one side of him, and his wife on the other. Both of them had their hands on his cock, stroking it in time with the chant. They weren’t the only ones. All throughout the audience similar scenes were playing out, sometimes substituting fingers and hands for tentacles and suckers, but all working in time with the chant.  
An obscene diagram had been drawn at the foot of the stage, written in a language none in Cape Sael had known that morning, but that all spoke fluently now. Three women lay at the center of the circle. Well, two women and a Deep One. The High Priestess lay between Flanry’s eldest daughter and Old Man Holme’s wife, bodies covered in more of the eldritch writing. Their wrists and ankles were shackled to the floor. Father Grey’s voice rose as the sermon neared its climax, thundering from the walls and ceiling. He came as he read the final word, entire body convulsing in a powerful release that Sister Margaret let run out of her mouth to dribble onto the rune she’d painted between her legs in her own cum.

All light in the church went out at once, leaving the suddenly glowing diagram as the only source of illumination. The runes brightened until the audience had to squint to look in their direction. But look they did, watching in wrapped awe as a rift slowly formed in the air above the diagram. Tentacles emerged from that rift, thick, long appendages that belonged to a creature that hadn’t been seen on earth in millennia. The Priestess strained against her chains, trying to stretch out towards those tentacles. “Dagon!” She screamed. “Your children welcome you, and beseech you for your blessing! Accept our sacrifices and grace us with your touch!”

The tentacles reacted to the sound of her voice, orienting on the trio of sacrifices. They struck with unnatural speed, lashing around all three forms, lifting them as far as the shackles would allow. More tentacles emerged from the rift, these smaller, more delicate than their titanic siblings, and each was tipped with a phallic protrusion that resembled exactly what it was. They plunged into the offerings without ceremony. All three of them cried out at the sudden invasion. The audience added their own voices to the primal song of those cries, Father Grey leading them in an unholy hymn. There was nothing sensual about the movements of those tentacles, they plunged into the offered women with mechanical movements, churning their insides with their power. It was raw, brutal, and the cries of the women only grew more fevered as they were pushed inexorably towards climax. The song reached its crescendo as all three women came. Their eyes rolled back, bodies convulsing, squeezing the tentacles tighter and their voices shattered the air in a single unified call to their god. The tentacles bulged for a moment, then convulsed, delivering Dagon’s blessing in the form of his seed. Thick, gooey bands of it gushed into all three women, filling them, overflowing them. The tentacles withdrew from their gaping holes, squirting more cum across their naked bodies, heedless of the mess they made on the tentacles holding them. The torrent lasted far longer than any moral creature could have, pulsing out in time with the slowing chant of the audience. Once they were spent the larger tentacles relaxed their grip, dropping their charges to splash into the mess on the floor as they began to withdraw into the rift once more, their job complete.

The High Priestess pushed herself up in the gooey mess as far as she could. Pleasure still oozed through the sacrifices, leaving the humans writhing in mindless pleasure. But she was a Deep One, and she could handle the touch of their god more readily than such fragile mortals. Beneath the pleasure of her god’s touch, she felt something else stirring inside her, finding purchase. She smiled. In a few years there would be a new crop of High Priests and Priestess ready to go off and start their own colonies elsewhere. And until then, Cape Sael would be a wonderful place to raise a family.


End file.
